


A Daffodil means

by A_Nobelmonster



Series: What does a flower mean? [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Artist!Derek, Caring!Derek, Depression, Fluff, Kinda, M/M, Panic, Protective!Derek, Selective Muteness, Self-Harm, florist!Derek, flowerology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:22:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4835180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Nobelmonster/pseuds/A_Nobelmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Daffodils mean The Sun is Always Shining When I'm with You “  </p><p>Derek finds Stiles cutting himself and instead of yelling at him or pitying him he shows Stiles how to be happy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Daffodil means

**Author's Note:**

> contains triggering imagery so approach carefully.

Derek wants to think it’s inconceivable for someone to want pain. He wishes that it didn’t make sense for someone bursting at the seems with guilt and hurt to to try cutting away the festering parts instead of healing them. He gets it though. When he’s frozen outside of Stiles bedroom window watching shaky lines beaded with blood appear of the kids bared thigh. Even if Derek wanted to , because of what he is he’ll never be allowed the freedom to wear pain like that visibly. 

All the romancing of teens in the late two thousands with dark hair and soulful bloody poetry comes to mind as he opens the window slowly announcing his entry. There is a very real fear he’ll spook Stiles into dropping the exacto blade straight into his thigh. Stiles doesn’t say anything as he looks up at Derek the blade raised as threat but not to him. 

“ Where’s your first aid kit?” the fan on Stiles desk is drowned out by the furious beating of stiles heart, burnt lemon smell of anxiety causes him to flinch. The kit is on Stiles computer desk and as soon as he has it in tow the blade is held out to Derek and Stiles watches resigned in fear. 

“Hold still , i’ll be quick.” the lines are neat like coke lines in movies . Human first aid is very different from werewolf first aid ; he’d like to think he’s capable enough running rubbing alcohol lightly over the area with a cotton pad before layering band-aids his hand inadvertently brushes over a cut causing Stiles to jerk. 

“Sorry “ the teenager says nothing just folds his hands into his lap like a catholic school boy about to be scolded . “make sure you sanitize this.” The metal reflects his lamp light, a beacon of perversion. 

Stiles tucks himself into a tight circle on the bed and nods . He can hear Derek move and starts to think “when he leaves i’ll-” but Derek just goes to his computer desk and sits down , Stiles closes his eye’s ready to wait out his unwelcome guest. 

The next time he opens his eye’s it’s morning . there's a tube of antibacterial cream on his nightstand he can barely make out through the haze of burning tears. _why does someone have to care now? why does it have to be Derek? __  
The next day and the day after that Derek shows up. innocent circumstances that bring him to Stiles vicinity._

Sometimes not, there are times more often than not where Stiles has barely finished carving into a clean chunk of thigh before calloused hands move his aside quick efficiency dressing the quivering flesh beneath them. 

During these times Stiles is a different Stiles, his fear and guilt are on display impossibly loud in the muteness of the room. Derek is the talkative one. “ lets change this sheet it got some blood on it” “Here, drink some water” “I’m turning out the lights ok? “ 

It pisses Stiles off that everything Derek does in these moments in gentle when all Stiles wants it's to tear and render and destroy every soft reachable part of his body . It pisses him off that Derek can fill him to the brim with guilt over the most effective coping mechanism he has by just leaving pain reliever tablets out for him or changing old bandaids. 

With him Derek brings planting magazines and old Russian literature bound in frail cloth covers, fliers for pottery classes and coupons to local cafes he non-verbally brow beats Stiles into attending with him.  
Sometimes Stiles doesn’t speak the whole day its like he forgets the words he knows and forgets how to know them again. Derek just walks with him in tow at the Botanical garden reading off plaques of flowers snippets of their medicinal use or meaning quietly given to him.  
Or follows Stiles gaze towards the menu bored “ two pumpkin muffins , two coffee's, one black decaf with sugar and one caramel frappuccino. " Mirroring fractionally Stiles smiles as Derek sips on the cold beverage while stiles is perfectly bitter. 

At pack meetings Stiles and Derek argue, there is loud laughter on Stiles part and professional level glaring on Derek's. the first time they have a pack meeting after Derek catches Stiles he dreads Derek finding him hurting himself again, fears that the werewolf will say that he’s a disgusting attention seeker.

A month later there is clay under his nails from that mornings sculpting class Derek harassed him into he’s sitting on his bed a disassembled razor blade shaking in his hand . _stop this. don’t be a fucking coward. you’ve done this before just put the damn blade down. muscle memory. you’ll feel better. ___

Stiles tries to drawn in a breath but his lungs feel like deflated airbags , _come on . come on. come on_. Eye’s closed he pushes the metal just above his knee it bites like a wild beast splitting skin , _it’s the worst pain he’s ever felt ._

Even worse he looks down to see the wound is barely broken skin but he cries and an hour later when Derek comes over he barely gets out “im sorry” when the wolf scents to air for blood nose wrinkled in disgust when he finds the metallic scent before he’s crying again. Later Stiles picks the clay from his nails head bowed in shame with Derek across from him on the bed. The older man rubs ointment into a staircase of half healed marks on Stiles inner thigh “ The art museum is unveiling an exhibit of pop art, i went to a similar showing in New Work at the MET . I’ll point out the ones the sculpting instructor was talking about today.” There’s never any judgment , no pity , just rough hands being stupidly gentle 

“ I want to be happy. Derek…” it’s the most Stiles has said during one of these times and for a second the words to feel not entirely true but he looks at the other man whose hiding a small smile in the grey space between them and he knows that its what he wants now. He knows it's the truth. 

“ok.”

Stiles starts getting texts, when he wakes up "good morning" and at night if Derek isn't there already "sleep well. actually go to sleep Stiles." Pack meetings become more relaxed , take out passed around and plans to attends a local music festival. He starts to forget what keeping that much pain bottled up feels like. To be alone and scarred because its better than bothering other people with his silly feelings. Better than admitting every time he goes to sleep he's not sure he wants to wake up. 

It's a scary realization when most of the time he finds himself happy to see another day. With Derek. With the pack and his father. Nothing feels 'fixed' but it feels different, better different . It feel so much better Stiles never wants to be that person again. 

but two days later and Stiles is in the bathroom this time clutching the shard of a broken cup, before he’s coherent its poised above his opposing forearm. He remembers clay. paint. aftershave. pine needles. Derek. 

The shards is thrown towards the toilet . Then he’s in his room where he takes the moist lump of clay from the last class they went to where the instructor told them they could do what they want with is and bring it back whenever they came next to throw in the kiln since Derek and him were there enough. His hands are cold quick things moving like if he doesn't occupy himself with this now the shard of plastic will appear in his hand again. 

The feeling of being a reverberating string plucked too harshly dies down as he pinches and rolls coils on his computer desk. Stiles carves thin tubes of stamens and sloping curves of daffodil petals . The pace becomes less frantic.

A day later when they go back to the studio Stiles is careful taking his piece out of the Tupperware container to place at the glazing station, Derek looks at the flower shocked and then a blush colors his face. Next to the flower is a fox, curled up contentedly. Stiles wonders if he could survive the embarrassment of crying in front of his twenty-two year old former peace corp instructor. 

Neither of them have to say anything after the class ,as they sit outside on the patio of a cafe a few blocks from Stiles house. He never has to say anything he can’t with Derek. Derek never expects false promises or placation's . 

The sun is warm and the air is bright with laughter. A daffodil couldn’t be a more suitable flower for how Stiles feels now, When they had gone to the garden's months ago Derek stopped in front on the yellow flowers , “Daffodils mean The Sun is Always Shining When I'm with You “ 

Stiles doesn’t think the sun will ever stop shining.

**Author's Note:**

> i needed some angsty fluff today.
> 
> A/N: i don't believe in people fixing other people so i didn't do it here. Derek helps Stiles realizes he wants to be happy but Stiles is the one who makes it happen.


End file.
